


Old As Time

by LaythornMuse



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaythornMuse/pseuds/LaythornMuse
Summary: A Beauty in the Beast AU - Derived from Quarantine Boredom
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Comments: 37
Kudos: 96





	1. Chapter 1

The snow was the least of their problems. Uncle Lamb was near delirious with fever, their horse crawled down the road due to a slipped shoe, and they hadn’t passed an estate in over two days.

When one appeared on the horizon, gloomy, in disrepair, but with a heartily puffing chimney, Claire did not hesitate.

She threw herself at the front door, banging on the frosted wood until she felt her skin begin to crack.

When the door heaved an inch open, a young man’s face pressed into the space, his eyes large with shock and surprise.

“Mademoiselle, are you lost?” The young man asked, raising his voice to combat the winds.

“I’m afraid I am, and my uncle is quite sick.” Claire looked back at the droopy figure on her horse. “Please sir, may we stay with you this evening?”

The door heaved open a bit more, and the man pushed his head out the door. “Mon cheri, you do not want to stay here. Please, you must continue forward…”

“No you don’t understand…”

“FERGUS.”

The young man winced, shoving her away from the door as the voice bellowed from inside.

“You must go.”

“I cannot. Please, I’ll speak with your master. It’s a matter of-“

The door burst open and the man named Fergus clung to the side of the door as an arm stretched through the darkness and grabbed hold of her cloak.

Her feet scraped against the tile as she tumbled into the darkness, only held upright by the strong grasp at the front of her dress. She felt herself drop to her feet, then her knees as a dark figure loomed over her.

“A Sassenach dares trespass at my door?” A voice sneered. “You are a fool hearty lass.”

Claire swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Please, sir. My uncle isn’t well and my horse is lame. I need a place to stay the night. Won’t you…”

She felt as much as heard the rumble that left his chest, as he stepped to the fireplace. He was a large man with hair the color of fire and a beard to match. He wore heavy animal skin, from a large bulk she supposed, and it hid the majority of him from sight. All the better, she realized, as he appeared more beast than man.

“Come into the light,” he growled.

Clair felt a shiver run down her spine at his words, not knowing what meaning they held. She slowly gathered her feet beneath her and stepped forward into the light of the hearth.

Seconds turned to minutes as she stood still, her eyes glued to the floor as his eyes raked over her form. She could feel them penetrate her clothes and wondered now if she should have listened to the man named Fergus.

Finally a gruff noise left his throat. “Fergus,”

He called. “Make the old man a room.”

A breath of relief left her. “Thank you, Monsieur.”

“Do not thank me. Your hospitality will not be free.”

Claire’s breath caught in her throat as she choked on a soft sob. She bowed her head and nodded. What choice did she have? Lose her uncle to a fever and storm? Die herself or do whatever bidding this man asked of her? She had to survive. That was what her uncle taught her, and what drove them to their new life in France. She could not let her fear end them.

Claire watched as her uncle was carried inside, and followed him down the hallway to a grand room, where Fergus laid him gently.

“I will fetch rags and a washbasin for you, Ms…”

“Claire,” she said softly, a small smile breaking across her face as she squeezed the young man’s arm. “I appreciate your help, Fergus. Truly.”

“Of course, Claire. I stay here with Milord but should you need anything…”

“Woman! Come to me!”

Fergus’s eyes grew wide, and nodded to the door.

Claire stepped into the hallway and found the large, shadowed man waiting. He took her by the arm, and pulled her down to the end of the hall, stopping before the second to last door.

“This will be your room.”

Claire let a breath out slowly. “…I could stay with my Uncle if that’s…”

“Nae.” He motioned to the door across the way.

“My room is there and I want you close so you don’t wander about.”

“Yes, sir….” Claire swallowed. “May I have your name?”

“You have no need for my name as long as you obey.”

Claire felt herself bristle, but held her eyes steady with the door. “And what, sir, is to be the price of your gratitude? My obedience?”

He turned her then and tilted her chin so that her eyes met his. She saw the deep blue storm hidden behind the day’s filth, and a year’s face growth.

A dark chuckle left his throat as his eyes saw her fears painted across her face. “Nothing as untoward as your face betrays, lass.” He stood straighter and his head straightened into a long line that transformed his features and hinted at the man beneath the heavy cloaks.

It’s foolish for you to be on the roads this late in the season and your horse has an abscessed hoof. He will not be ready for travel until Spring. You and your uncle will stay until then and you will be my companion.”

“What kind of companion?” She said stiffly.

“Whatever kind I ask of ye, understood?” He snapped.

Claire huffed nodded as she bit her lower lip, trying to quash the tear from slipping down her cheek. “May I see to my uncle now?” She whispered.

“Aye. Ye may. You’ll come to my room this evening after supper. That is not a request.”

Claire felt the tears renew down her cheeks as the dark figure stormed down the hallway and took the stairs two at a time, leaving her to wonder what she’d just tied herself to.


	2. Chapter 2

Fergus returned to her with the water basin and some hearty broth for her Uncle. Within the hour, she had her uncle washed, fed and tucked into his bed, leaving her to wonder about the kind young man and his wayward master.

When he returned next, he brought a bowl of broth for her as well. “Thank you Fergus. This is very kind.”

“Of course, mon Cheri. Milord has stated you are to have whatever aid you need and whatever we can provide.”

Claire bite her cheek as she gave Fergus a tight smile. “How…thoughtful of him.” Claire took a few sips of her soup before her stomach turned with nerves. “Is he…fair, your milord?”

Fergus looked up, a small smile on his face. “Oh. Very much so milady. His family took me in when I was a small boy.”

“There’s more who live here?” She asked.

Fergus’s face darkened. “No. Not anymore. Forgive me. I’ve said too much.”

Claire nodded as Fergus stood and tidied their bowls and supplies. “Your uncle will undoubtedly sleep the night, but I will sit with him as you attend to milord.”

Claire clenched her teeth, and took a deep breath. “Thank you Fergus.”

***

Standing outside his room, Claire steeled herself as she lifted her hand to knock. Her fist connected with the door, and she heard a rough command snapped at the door. To her surprise, the room was not a bedroom, but a study, with a grand fireplace and a solid wood desk and chair. There were two armchairs by the hearth, both with luxuriously stuffed pillows and delicately carved legs and feet set atop a soft plush carpet. The comforts and atmosphere of this room stood apart from the estate’s general state of neglect, and as Claire stared at the books and well-kept ledgers, Claire began to wonder why.

A cough turned her attention to the half-naked man who stood behind the desk. Yes, certainly a man, Claire thought as her cheeks pinked in embarrassment. He was freshly washed and stood in only a pair of breaks as he ran a drying cloth through his hair. His damp chest gleamed in the fire’s light, illuminating his cut figure powerful arms. He was younger than she thought, she realized, perhaps not much older than Fergus. Certainly still a man of vitality and youth.

Though even now after his wash, his beard remained untrimmed, and Claire felt stricken by how much it obscured his face.

“Plait my hair, Sassenach.”

His order shook her from her stance, and she moved towards where he sat on a footstool.

“Do you have a strap sir?”

“Here.” His fingers brushed hers as the leather band passed between them and she nearly gasped at the electric bolt it caused. Squaring her jaw and mentally shaking herself for her foolishness, she lifted the brush from his desk and began gently running it through his red mane.

“Would you like it tied up or….oh.”

As she parted his curtain of hair, she saw the deep channel of scars buried in his back. Carefully, she lifted his hair, gathered and bound it as he instructed before picking up his discarded towel and drying his shoulders.

“How did it happen?” She asked.

She felt him shift on the stool, and for a moment thought he would ignore her.

“I grew up in Scotland and had an unfortunate encounter with an English officer.”

“One man did this?”

“One dead man, aye.”

She wasn’t sure what made her say it, given their terse exchanges, but her mouth moved before she could stop herself. “I’m sorry for it.”

He stood abruptly, a small cough escaping his throat as he moved from her to the armchair and pulled a clean shirt over his head. He took a seat in the chair to the far right, picking up along wood rod and a small carving knife. Slowly, he began to turn his knife into the wood with smooth strokes. Carving, Claire realized.

“Sit.” He stated though she noticed there was less bite to his command now. She moved to stand before him and motioned to the seat across from him. When he replied with a grunt, she took the seat, and let herself settle into the cushions. About an hour into their silence, Claire took perhaps her first full breath of the day. Whatever she expected from this evening, it certainly wasn’t a quiet meditation by the fire. Whether this was part of his plan to relax her or not, she was grateful for the stillness, interrupted only by his soft knife scrapes. She only hoped it would fortify her for whatever came next.

“Your tongue is awfully still for a lass.”

“Would you prefer it wasn’t?”

“Nay. You merely surprise me.”

A long stretch of silence stretched between them before he spoke again. “The house is at your disposal while you’re here. Fergus will help you obtain whatever you need. You are not allowed upstairs.”

“Why not?”

She felt him bristle. “Because I forbid it.” He stood from his chair and pulled her up by her elbow in one fluid stroke. “Understood?”

“Ye-yes,” Claire replied, berating herself for the tremor in her voice.

“Good evening to ye.” He held open the door to the study and waited for her to walk across to her room. She shut the door behind her, and finally allowed herself to fall to pieces on her bed as the snow deafened the night to her cries.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next few days, Claire settled into life at the estate, helping Fergus with the cooking and chores as Uncle Lamb improved. “Milord” as Fergus called him, kept to himself, leaving early in the morning to tend to the lands and returning late in the evenings for supper. Their evening routine of silent company continued as well, with only a handful of questions raised.

Did she enjoy reading? Yes.

What was her Uncle’s occupation? A Scholar.

Where were they headed? South of Paris.

Each question ended their conversation as abruptly as it began it, leaving Claire more unsettled afterward than before. She still didn’t know this man’s name, nor anything beyond what Fergus shared.

Still, with the exception of his short list of demands, he felt no inclination to trouble her, even letting her retire early one evening when he caught her stifle a yawn.

It was why when a crow flew into the house while Fergus was out doing chores, that Claire determined to prove herself useful.

The bird, large and unfriendly looking, seemed determined to stay inside despite Claire’s best attempts to corral him back to the outdoors. After an hour of chase, Claire felt her stomach drop when the bird flew up the stairs past the darkened landing. Not knowing what items the bird could ruin if left undeterred, Claire raced up the stairs, cornering the bird near the hall window. Circling the deviled thing, she inched toward the window, prying it open with one hand as the other held the house broom.

The crow, tired of their game, relented and escaped out the offered window. As Claire closed it with a satisfying snap, she turned and felt her mouth drop as she took in the hall.

Paintings. There were several lining the walls, all seemingly done by the same artist of two red-headed boys and a brown-haired girl. The paintings were magnificent stories of mischief, archiving the children’s youth, the youngest boy starting as an infant until he nearly matched his brother’s height.

The paintings stopped in the far room, a family room, where more paintings lived of a lovely young man and woman, surrounded by their three children. The final paintings canvas was shredded, but it portrayed a young man, holding an award of some kind. The young man’s hair was fire red, with a glorious smile that lit his blue…

No. It couldn’t be, she thought to herself.

A bark rattled her ears and made her jump away from the painting. Turning in a fright, her eyes locked on her bearded captor, whose eyes were alight with madness.

“What are you doing here?” He snapped.

“There…a crow was—“

“I told you. This place is forbidden.” His voice grew louder as he clamped his hand around her arm and dragged her away from the family room.

“Wait, please you’re hurting…”

“Do you realize what damage you could have done? Those paintings are irreplaceable!” He bellowed at her, pulling her down the stairs and pressed her against the wall at the bottom of the landing.

“Please. I’m sorry!” Tears escaped her eyes as she heard a leather strap fall against the floor. “I didn’t mean any harm.”

“Aye, but I’ll be making sure ye dinnae try it again.”

Claire felt the back of her dress lift and a leather strap fall sharply against her bottom. She let out a scream as he reddened her bottom when the tail of the strap, finally stopping on the fifth strike.

Claire crumpled to the ground, a sob ripping through her lungs as rage, pain and shame exploded from her.

“You monster!” She shrieked at him, causing the man to turn back to her. “A crow flew up into your second floor. I should have let it destroy your precious paintings!”

“A crow?” His eyes fell to a white splatter of the floor. Bird shit. “A crow.” He stated, as he closed his eyes. “I see.”

“I’m glad you see. You’ll have to excuse me however as I take one of your horses to the nearest town. I’ll not stay in this house another minute with the likes of you!”

“Claire,” he stretched an arm to help her stand.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t you dare touch me!” She sniffled and ran to the front door just as Fergus walked through.

“Mon Cheri?” Fergus asked, as he watched her run past him, aimed at the horse tied by the front door.

“I’m sorry, Fergus. I’ll be back for my uncle as soon as I can manage.” She untied the reins and mounted the horse as the bearded man appeared in the door.

“Claire, please wait.”

The man’s voice held an unfamiliar quality, and as she spun round, she saw tears running down his cheeks. “Claire, I’m sorry. Please, let me explain.”

Wiping at her own cheek, she stirred the horse into a gallop, only looking back once to see the man who took a strap to her down on his knees.


	4. Chapter 4

The snow was deep on the forest path, deep enough to give her horse trouble when they were little more than a few miles from the estate. Her tears had frozen to her lashes, and her face stung from her oozing nose and the bitter wind that pushed against their progress.

Claire led her horse off the main road where the wind was less fierce with the thicker tree coverage. Even with less wind, however, her path disappeared before her as the snow blinded her from anything more than a few feet away. She dismounted as she tried to decide what direction to continue when she heard a growl.

A howl sounded, and Claire felt her blood turn to ice. She turned frantically, trying to place the direction of the sound, but didn’t see the wolf until it was within striking distance. Her horse bucked, throwing Claire forward into a tree before it bolted into the night with two shadows in hot pursuit. She pressed a hand to her mouth and she strained to hear. A soft huffed breath sounded, and Claire darted into a thick copse of trees. She ran with renewed purpose, darting between trees and weaving her path, knowing she could not outrun the wolf. 

When a heavy object knocked her to the ground, Claire’s head snapped around to see the beast. She fixed her eyes on the lofty creature, it’s red eyes dilated and fully focused on her. She let out a scream for help, knowing it was useless, but hoping it might scare the wolf off. 

It did not. 

She pressed her back into the tree and steeled herself for the animal’s lunge, when another animal attacked it from behind with a vicious roar. No, not an animal. A man.

“Run, Claire!” The bearded man called to her, as he slashed at the creature with a long hunting knife.

Claire ran a few paces, but stopped at the sound of teeth mashing with metal. The man howled and Claire saw red stain the ground. The man and beast circled one another, dodging and dealing blows until both were wounded and weak. The man finally wrestled a grip around the creature’s body and slashed its neck, holding it down until its body went limp in the snow.

The man did not move. 

Claire felt a twinge of conflict for approximately 10 seconds before she decided leaving a man to die was not something she could live with. She quickly ran to his side and turned him on his back, looking for life threatening wounds.

She heard a moan when she applied pressure to a deep scratch on his torso, and was relieved to see his eyes open, staring at her in disbelief.

“You came back,” he whispered. 

“Lot of good it will do us if another wolf arrives. Can you stand?” Claire helped him to his feet, bolstering him up as the walked steadily back to the road. 

Claire pressed the reins into his hands, more than a bit surprised when he mounted the horse without aid. Her own horse whinnied nearby. The sight of a familiar horse must have steeled it from its escape, she realized.

Once convinced the man would not fall, she mounted her own horse, relieved when the other followed her without further instruction.

***

“Fergus, I’m f-f-fine.” The man said, as his body shook with the cold.

“So you keep saying, Milord.”

“You d-d-don’t need to...t-t-double...”

A smile threatened to lift Claire’s lip, or at least it would if she wasn’t shivering herself. Now before the hearth, steam lifted from their damp clothing. Upon Claire’s request, Fergus conjured a suture kit, and she now busied herself with the needle and thread. Whiskey filled two glasses on the sideboard, one already drained and refilled twice as the man eyed her warily.

Fergus helped “milord” strip to his trousers, revealing the man’s fine figure to her eyes for a second time. She’d never scene a man as cut as a mountain: tall, steep, beautiful. She dropped her eyes to discourage the blush seeping into her cheeks and bit the corner of her mouth. 

“When you’re ready, sir.” She was glad her voice sounded more stately than she felt.

With a few mumbled words and a surprisingly affectionate exchange between then two, Fergus left the room. The man leaned back against the sideboard and motioned for her to come forward. He settled into his third glass as she settled to work on his wound.

A minute passed in silence, before a gentle quake of his belly made her pause.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to be quick.”

“I know, lass. I’ve never heard you so silent.”

Claire looked up. “What do you mean?”

The man looked away, his hand coming up to scratch his beard. “Nothing...only, you usually hum and sing and laugh with Fergus all the day. I hear you in my study.”

“I hope you’re not implying something improper...”

“No! Not at all...”

“Fergus has been a friend to me, but...”

“Lass! Fergus has a miss in town. I know that is not the nature of your friendship.” The man halted and sighed. “What I meant to say is, he is glad of you. He is as a son to me, having grown in this house, and loyal to a fault. He...”. The man swallowed hard. “He probably should have left me ages ago, to start his own life. But....but he would not leave me here as I was...as I am.”

Claire looked down at her work, chewing the inside of her lip, wondering what to say. 

“I know you told me the truth.”

Claire’s hand stilled.

“I know you did not purposely disobey me. I—“

Claire looked up as he visibly shook, with emotion this time. She stood, holding her hands in front of her and looked deep into the face of the man before her. His face, though shrouded, was earnest, and a single tear trailed his cheek before it disappeared into his beard.

“I’m sorry for it, Claire. I swear upon my life to never strike you in anger again...if you give me the opportunity to regain your trust...if my word is enough...”

“It shouldn’t be enough,” Claire said softly. “I should hate you. But how can I hate a man who so willingly throws himself in harms way to protect another, to protect me?” Her hand wiped at her eyes. “You’ve done so much for me and my uncle, silently, delivering us whatever we need through Fergus and yet...”

“And yet?” The man’s voice was on edge, but one look from Claire put his temper in check.

“You’re haunted. You wish to do good but hide from that side of you as if you fear seeing it will turn it to dust.”

“Perhaps because I repent for past transgressions. Perhaps my actions did once turn people I cared for to dust. What say you to that?” His voice was gruff, but Claire heard the small hitch as slammed his cup to the table. 

“Even if that is true, do you think you were alone in causing it? Is it not God’s plan who lives and who dies? Unless you claim to have murdered...”

“Nay, I may be a beast, but I am no monster.” 

“Then...I think perhaps you put too much blame upon yourself, but I cannot know for sure unless you share the story?” 

His eyes, blue as a summer morning, looked pained. “You...would hear the tale?”

“I would.”

He nodded. “Tomorrow evening then. I think we both need rest tonight, if you’re done with me?” 

Claire nodded, stepping back so he could take his shirt. With a tilt of his head, he moved to the door.

“Wait!”

He turned slowly, a question on his lips, but Claire had closed the distance between them. 

“Thank you...for saving my life.” She brushed her lips over his jaw, and before she could stop herself, ran from the study all the way to her room.


End file.
